Breathe
by Pickle Lily
Summary: Clark has a new power to get to grips with. Sequel to Stuck.
1. Chapter 1

**Breathe**

**By Pickle Lily**

**Rating:** PG-13

**Spoilers: **None

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Smallville or any of it's characters.

**Summary:** Clark has another power to get to grips with.

**A/N:** This was written way back in 2004, and is sort of a sequel to my first ficStuck. You don't have to read first, but it would be nice!

* * *

Martha Kent was preparing breakfast for her two boys, well one man and one extraordinary boy. She was humming tunelessly, while making pancakes and thinking about what she would cook for tea.

She was startled out her reverie by a loud bang, followed by the tinkling of breaking glass.

"Clark!" she yelled, instantly knowing the source of the commotion.

A few seconds later she heard the slow clump of boots on the stairs, and a dishevelled Clark came sheepishly down the stairs.

"What happened?" she asked, "I thought you could control the floating in your sleep now."

Clark was silent.

Martha looked at him closely; he appeared to be holding his breath. He moved towards her, took her by the hand and led her upstairs into his bedroom. One side of the room was as neat and tidy as it always was, but the other side, between his bed and his window, was not. It looked like a bomb had hit.

"What happened?" Martha asked again.

Still holding his breath, Clark crossed over to his desk and rummaged in a drawer. He produced a pen and paper, and began to write. When he had finished, he passed Martha the note. Silently she read Clark's hurried scrawl.

_When I woke up this morning, I took a deep breath, and when I breathed out this happened._

"So you haven't breathed since?" Martha questioned.

Clark took back the paper.

_No, what if it happens again?_

"Clark, you have to breathe at some point."

Clark mutely shook his head.

"So you're never going to talk again? At least we'll get some peace and quiet."

Clark looked at her startled. Grabbing the paper, he hastily scribbled,

_I hadn't thought of that!_

"Well it's a good job we live on a farm," Martha said brightly, "You can do all your breathing in a field."

_Mum, you're not taking this seriously. I broke the window._

"Windows can be mended. It's your refusal to breathe that's ridiculous." Martha was trying not to laugh.

Clark stared at her, before superspeeding away.

Clark reached the farthest field from the house in less than three seconds. He stopped in the middle and cautiously took a breath. When he breathed out, the section of fence in front of him blew down, causing the rest of the fence to collapse like dominos. Unfortunately a herd of cattle were in the next field. On seeing the fence give way, the cows decided that Clark's field was much nicer than their present field and proceeded to make their way over the broken fence. Clark shook his head violently in horror, and tried in vain to round them up. He only succeeded in agitating them further, and it was not long before they broke into a stampede, running crazily around the field. Dejectedly Clark sat in the middle of the field watching the cows go mad. One even had the cheek to kick him in the face, it walked away limping.

_Serves you right._ Clark thought crossly.

It was not long before Jonathan Kent noticed something going on in the far field.

"Martha," he called, getting into the truck, "I think the cows had broken the fence."

"That's not the only thing that has been broken this morning," Martha replied, joining her husband in the truck.

Jonathon looked at her,

"What do you mean?" he asked dubiously.

"Clark blew out his window?"

"He blew out his window? How'd he do that?"

"I mean literally, he breathed out, and broke his window. He's refusing to breathe again."

"Where is he now?"

"I told him to go breathe in a field."

Husband and wife looked at each other, before Jonathan revved the engine and they shot off, as fast as the battered truck would take them, towards the stampeding cows and a bemused Clark.

The truck tore to the far field in record time. At first all Jonathan and Martha could see was a mass of black and white cattle roaring around the field punctuated with their wild bellows. Jonathan looked at the broken fence.

"What the hell?" he muttered, carefully stepping over it.

"Clark?" Martha called, "Are you okay honey?"

Slowly the dark haired boy stood up in the midst of the charging cows and looked at his parents, his apology written all over his face.

"I assume that breathing in a field didn't work either?" Martha questioned.

Clark shook his head wildly, and pointed to the wreaked fence.

"Well, as long as you're okay," Jonathan said briskly, "but we need to round these cows up quickly, before they do any more damage."

He was looking at the ground; the once lush green grass had now turned into a brown muddy mess. Slowly the Kent family managed to usher the cows back into their original field, and Clark quickly rebuilt the fence.

Twenty minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table trying to decide a way for Clark to breathe without causing total chaos. He was getting quite desperate for oxygen now, but was still refusing to open his mouth. That was until Jonathan hit upon the idea of Clark flying up into the sky to breathe.

"There's nothing to break up there," he was saying.

Clark nodded his agreement and sped out the door. He was soon floating twenty thousand foot up in the atmosphere, hidden among the clouds. Smiling to himself he took a couple of welcome deep breaths. To his shock he blew the clouds away, and even more to his shock he found himself staring at a passenger jet aircraft, which was evidently experiencing severe turbulence, but still on a collision course with him.

_It can't have been me,_ Clark thought as the plane came closer. He noticed that the aeroplane was missing three of its engines and the other one did not appear to be working, it was hanging on by a thread. The aircraft was swiftly losing altitude. Without a second thought Clark sped under the aeroplane and halted its rapid descent. He guided it down into the nearest field, which happened to be the one he had destroyed earlier, and raced away toward the farmhouse.

Jonathan and Martha Kent looked up when their son burst into the kitchen.

"Did it work?" Jonathan asked hopefully.

Clark shook his headed and beckoned them outside. For the second time that day they got in the worn out red truck and made their way to the far field. Jonathan and Martha Kent were stunned to find a full sized, slightly battered looking Boeing 737, with a very confused pilot, sat in their field. The Kent elders looked at each other.

_What has Clark done now?_

As the pilot began to exit the plane, Jonathan Kent looked around uneasily for his son. Clark had disappeared. Squinting upwards, Jonathan thought he could make out a vaguely man-shaped dot floating in the clouds.

_That's where he's got to,_ Jonathan thought exasperatedly. Having a son with superpowers was all very well, but having a son who crashes into a Boeing 737 and then leaves it in a field is quite another matter. Sighing slightly Jonathan turned his attention to the dazed pilot, who after checking his plane, was making his way towards them. Extending his hand, he introduced himself and his wife. The pilot seemed to become more confused, he was not expecting a warm welcome from a country hick, who just happened to find a jumbo jet parked in his field.

"Where are we?" the pilot asked.

"Smallville, Kansas," Martha replied, "Umm, do you know how you got here? Are you okay?"

The pilot seemed to regain control of his senses. He looked straight at the farming couple and said,

"I have no idea. We suddenly hit some severe winds, strong enough to rip out our engines. We were rapidly losing altitude, when we stopped."

"Stopped?" Jonathan questioned.

"Yes, just stopped," the pilot replied, "Next thing I know, we're spiralling down to land here."

The Kent's exchanged looks.

_Clark,_ they thought in unison.

"Umm, how many passengers have you got on board?" Jonathan questioned.

"Almost a full plane, 140 people."

Once again husband and wife exchanged glances.

"Do you need to borrow the phone?" Martha asked.


	2. Chapter 2

From his vantage point in the sky, Clark watched his parents talk to the pilot, and saw them lead him off to the house. Once again Clark was getting quite desperate for air. He flipped over onto his back, so he was facing upwards. After scanning the area with both normal vision and x-ray vision, Clark was satisfied that there was nothing in the vicinity. He began to breathe normally. It was a relief, that nothing was destroyed, though Clark suspected that his breaths were far from normal, judging by the way he was stirring up the air above him. Clark hovered high up in the atmosphere, enjoying the freedom of breathing. It was not long before he became bored though. Glancing down he saw his parents trying to deal with the puzzled passengers of the Boeing 737. He decided it was best if he stayed away for a while. 

Making sure to keep breathing upwards, Clark flew east at a leisurely pace and took in the sights below. Once he reached the Pacific Ocean, Clark stopped. He idly wondered how long it would take him to fly around the entire continent. Glancing at his watch, Clark took off south in a blur of speed. He round the tipped of South America in record time and was quickly heading north. Things were going well and Clark was making good time. That was until he was he hit a flock of geese and was forced to slow down. The geese, surprised to find a strange looking bird in their midst, decided that Clark was dangerous and must be attacked, which they proceeded to do with great gusto, pecking viciously at every part of Clark's body. Clark tried to defend himself, but there were a lot of geese, it wasn't until he sent one flying backwards at great speed that they backed off.

"Damn geese," Clark muttered crossly, before taking off home, followed by the noise of the geese's indignant squawking.

Four hours later the farm was empty of bewildered flight passengers. They had been bused off to Metropolis to spend the night in hotels. There was still the problem of the removal of the aeroplane that was lodged in the far field.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, with a much welcome cup of coffee in hand, Jonathan and Martha Kent awaited their son's arrival. They did not have long to wait.

There was a thump in the yard, followed by the clunking of boots on the porch steps. The door creaked open and for the second time that day a very dejected Clark walked in, covered from head to toe in bird poo.

After he had taken a quick shower, and headed back up into the sky for a quick breath, Clark went to talk to his parents. Well they talked and he wrote notes.

Martha was trying to persuade him to eat something, but Clark was still declining to open his mouth.

_I don't want to blow you out the door,_ he explained.

"Even so Clark, this can't go on forever," Jonathan was saying, "You have to breathe at some point, you have to eat, and you have to go to school."

"Your father's right, you need to master this soon."

_This is worse than the floating, how am I supposed to master it?_ Clark scribbled.

"Well," Martha started, "When you breathe does it feel any different to before?"

_I'm very aware of my lungs and how much air is in them. _

"I think you need to control the amount of air entering and leaving your lungs, and obviously at what speed and pressure." Martha stated.

Clark rolled his eyes,

_Sounds simple,_ he scrawled on his notepaper.

"Just try Clark," Jonathan implored, "It's all we've got to go on."

Clark shrugged his shoulders, and walked out the door, followed closely by his parents. Looking at the tree half way down the drive, Clark tried to relax, and think about his lungs. Slowly he drew in a breath and held it for a moment, before letting out the tiniest whisper of air. The leaves of the tree rustled slightly, but other than that Clark's exhaled air had no effect. He grinned at his parents, then took another careful breath,

"Thank god for that," Clark whispered.

The tree promptly fell over. Clark looked horror-stricken.

"I don't think Clark's gonna be talking for a while," Jonathan laughed.

Faster than a speeding bullet, Clark shot up into the atmosphere, followed by his parent's exasperated yells. At twenty thousand foot Clark calmed down enough to take a couple of deep breaths. He decided he was going to stay up here until his little problem was sorted. He tried to follow his mother's advice, and tried to control the amount of air entering and leaving his lungs.

Several hours later Clark was beginning to feel like he could master his new power, but every time he got better at breathing, he'd relax and let out a massively powerful breath.

_I can't go through the rest of my life, thinking about how to breathe, I'd never be able do anything else,_ he thought miserably.

The sun was beginning to go down, when Clark felt brave enough to head back down to earth and face his parents. He had successfully managed to breathe normally for twenty minutes, but he still did not dare speak.

Jonathan and Martha were just sitting down to their evening meal, a place was laid for Clark, but there was no food on his plate, when Clark entered. He grinned slightly at them, and motioned to his chest to show he was breathing.

"Well that's good dear," Martha replied.

Clark nodded.

"So you're still not talking yet?" Jonathan questioned.

Clark nodded again.

"Ahh, bliss," Jonathan laughed, "Peace and quiet."

Clark found his notepaper again, and smiling to himself, he scribbled his father a note.

_I don't have to talk to make a lot of noise! I could just annoy the cows, antagonize the chickens … etc …_

"I get the picture," his father said dryly, reading the note, "I guess you'll have to be kept busy with extra chores then!"

Clark looked at him with indignation.

"Well if you're not going to school tomorrow, and you're not ill, you've got to do something."

Clark sighed and began to ladle his mother's stew onto his plate. Jonathan and Martha exchanged grins.

"Or you could start talking, Clark," Martha suggested.

Clark looked scared; he really did not want to blow his parents through the door.

"Okay," he mumbled, looking down at his plate. The stew shot up into his face, with the power of his breath.

Unable to control themselves any more, Jonathan and Martha Kent burst out laughing. Clark looked at them, before beginning to laugh himself. He laughed even harder, when he realised he was breathing normally again.

"Well done son, we knew you'd see the funny side sooner or later." Jonathan told him.

**The End!**


End file.
